


The moment.

by bluesmrs



Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesmrs/pseuds/bluesmrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another evening between guitarist and vocalist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The moment.

Olli’s sure he can see the moment Marko loses himself. It’s when Marko stops playing around, giggling like a child, looks at him and Olli suddenly feels like in a horror movie. But this feeling is too short, sometimes he just goes on laughing at Marko’s jokes and realises he is looking into the vocalist’s eyes when it’s already too late. Marko’s pupils are a bit dilated while he watches Olli’s reaction. He waits patiently. This is the moment, the most sincere moment, when Olli can close his eyes and kiss Marko and Marko just answers it, tenderly and softly.

  
‘Look at me’, the vocalist asks later, voice a bit husky.

  
Olli obeys. He licks his lips and smiles somehow unsure and then Marko pushes him into the wall, holding still.

  
‘There’s a nice piece on, you should listen’, Olli tries, but Marko shuts him up.   
‘Nah. I like it when you speak ‘bout your guitar pieces while I wanna make nasty things with you. Kinda doesn’t work, haven’t you noticed it yet?’ Marko murmurs straight in his ear and Olli shudders.

  
Marko chuckles and takes guitarist’s T-shirt off, pinning to the wall then and touching the skin under his fingers and making Olli shiver from the contact.

  
‘Still’, Olli continues. ‘After you do all the nasty things you want, don’t forget to listen to it.’   
’ _All_ the nasty things?’ Marko laughs. ‘ _Some_ nasty things. Others for tomorrow, you know…’

  
The next kiss is clumsy a bit, clash of teeth and tongues, and Olli gasps for air after it, frowns at the vocalist. Marko just buries his hand into the guitarist’s dishevelled hair and kisses him again, catching the moan and bites a bit, feeling Olli choke. When he pushes away, Olli’s look as immoral as it can be, hair’s a mess, a light flush on the cheeks, swollen lips glistening and ice-grey eyes darkening with nothing but lust.

  
‘Stop it’, Olli groans. He hates it so much when Marko’s watching him. He doesn’t know why, though.

  
Marko shushes him and then never stops, because Olli finally surrenders to this feeling, at first refusing to beg for more, pupils growing wider from the mixture of both pain and pleasure, but then just squirming under him and whispering his name as the only thing he knows. So Marko watches, tastes, smells and touches. He can’t tell what’s better.

  
When Olli’s finally asleep, Marko sighs and turns the laptop off. He’ll listen to the new piece in the morning because the only thing he can do now is lay beside Olli, hold him tight and sleep peacefully.


End file.
